fangirl 01 - an unconventional meeting Read online

  ‘Excuse me, ladies.’ A tall woman wearing a supervisor’s waistcoat interrupted their exchange. ‘I understand there’s an issue with the seats?’

  ‘Not for us,’ Ellie began. ‘But your usher believes there is. We’re interpreting for our friend who’s deaf, so we need to face her in order for her to participate.’

  ‘We do it every year,’ Marie added. ‘But usually, we’re a bit further back, on the end.’

  ‘And you’re not moving us to the end,’ Mallory jumped in.

  ‘Of course not,’ the woman agreed, nodding her head in understanding. ‘So you just need to have this one chair here?’ The trio nodded. ‘May I ask that you push it back some more—against the stage please so it doesn’t block the aisle. Fire hazards and all.’

  ‘Sure,’ Ellie said, scooting the chair further back. Can you see me? she asked Mallory, who nodded enthusiastically and held up two thumbs. As the lights in the hall dimmed and the stage spotlights fell on the compère, Ellie was thankful she fell just within the shadows. No one but Mallory would see her.

  She hoped.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Marc stood at the curtain that separated the audience and backstage, paralysed. It looked like there were thousands of them out there!

  He couldn’t breathe.

  He dropped the curtain back, struggling to get a grip on himself. Bent over, hands on thighs, he tried to take in gulps of air and failed miserably. He knew the area behind the stage was dark, but he felt it was growing darker and—

  Had it been spinning when he walked in?

  ‘Marc? Hey! Buddy, c’mon, stand up.’ Luc gripped his shoulder tight and pulled him upward, making him stand straight. The action forced him to breathe in, deeply, forcing air back into his lungs. ‘Don’t freak out, it’ll be okay,’ his friend soothed, as the room brightened again and steadied beneath his feet.

  ‘There’s too many,’ he managed to get out. ‘They’re all— Fuck! Luc…’ He turned pleading eyes on his friend as he felt utterly at a loss for what he was to do. He didn’t want to go out and face them all—he knew what they were like, had given into temptation a couple of times and Googled himself. It had only solidified his judgement; fans were fucking nuts!

  ‘Don’t make me go out there.’

  ‘Marc, look, it’s not as bad as you think. They’re seated down below the stage, with a good gap between you and them. There’s security on either side of it in case anything should happen—not that anything ever has. There’s never been an incident here, we’re good. I promise.’ He knew Luc was trying his best to reassure him, was probably telling the truth, but fear clenched his stomach and wouldn’t loosen its hold.

  ‘There’s a line at stage-left,’ Luc continued. ‘That’s your question line; fans queue there and after you’ve answered one question they’ll bring another one forward. There’s a little more light on them than the audience just because it’s their moment. The queue is manned by an experienced member of the event team. They moderate the questions before they’re asked, so there will be no awkward questions or—’

  ‘Like what?’ His head snapped toward his friend as he thought back to what he’d read online about both their characters and what went on between them. He didn’t want to deal with questions about whether he and Luc were in a relationship either on or off screen. He still couldn’t work how anyone perceived their friendship as more than that.

  ‘Best you don’t know, because they’ll never be asked. How about I tell you after okay? You don’t need to worry about them out there,’ Luc added as he spied Marc’s shaking hands. ‘Afterwards, you can either laugh when I tell you or have another rant. Sound good?’

  Marc nodded his agreement as he turned his attention back to the curtain and swallowed hard. He could do this.

  ‘They’ll probably ask you questions about a particular episode, your relationship with your demons, or they may ask a little about outside of work—’

  ‘No! Absolutely not!’ he interrupted Luc as his head snapped back to look at his friend. ‘I won’t answer anything personal. Nothing. It’s been a miracle I’ve kept Tyler out of the press, I won’t open him up to them. I won’t confess my life to those— those—’ He lost his words as he stared at Luc and silently pleaded with him to make this whole thing stop, to let him go home and just be with his son. He just wanted to lock himself away with Tyler in their home, build Lego sets, throw a ball in the garden, paddle in their pool…

  Luc made to say something and then seemed to think better of it. He took in his friend’s face—cheeks tinged green and eyes round with fear. It was surreal to see him like that; he was always so in control of everything and everyone. He had Jen to run his life like clockwork; nothing happened to him that wasn’t in his diary. This whole convention had really thrown him for a loop.

  ‘Okay, they won’t,’ Luc finally reassured his friend. ‘They’ll only ask about work-related things.’ Luc nodded towards a staff member who had wisely stayed quiet. Luc was sure that with the number of events they held, this was not something unusual for them to witness. The staff member returned his nod before scurrying off behind the curtain, to do whatever he needed to ensure Luc’s promises were kept.

  Marc’s whole body suddenly went limp as he felt a weight lifting off him. He could answer questions about the show. He did that at interviews. This would just be like a live interview…except he wouldn’t know the questions beforehand.

  ‘Here sit down for a second.’

  He felt a chair being pushed against the back of his knees and willingly collapsed into it. ‘My God, Luc, how do you do this?’

  ‘With a little thing called acting.’ Marc looked up at him in confusion. ‘Haven’t you noticed we’re all just a little… off? A little more us than normal?’ When Marc looked at him blankly, Luc continued, ‘Like, I’m flirtier, BB doesn’t stop smiling, Tony’s more serious, Casey is… Well, no, actually Casey is still just Casey.’

  It took a moment to process what Luc had said, but it explained so much. BB was always cheerful, but today had been extreme, hadn’t it? If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was an animated Barbie doll. And Luc, well, Luc never looked at anyone but his wife, Linda, yet even he’d been smiling and winking at girls all morning. Marc had even seen him lean over the table a couple of times to whisper something to one or two of them.

  ‘So… what? How should I be more… whatever?’

  ‘Well I don’t think being a bigger douche would help.’ Luc looked down at him pointedly. ‘Maybe you should tone down the I-hate-you-all attitude and be more yourself—’

  ‘Nope, no, I’m not giving them me.’

  Luc sighed. ‘Okay, then let’s give you a role, a character to be.’ He paused for a moment and sized his friend up. ‘All right, you’re Marc Fucking Matthews, highly successful actor, single, footloose and fancy-free. You could have anyone out there that you want, but you don’t. You’re a high roller. You only go for the best, but you make all the others think they could have you, even if you won’t. You’re charming, debonair—’

  ‘Fucking hell, I’d rather be myself,’ Marc laughed and finally felt that iron hand of fear let go of his innards a little. Yet Luc’s description struck a chord; he had been that guy before he met Kelly. It left a bad taste in his mouth. ‘I’ll just be less of an asshole—how about that?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Luc grinned, patting him on the shoulder before squeezing it in support. ‘Go get ‘em, tiger.’

  Marc took a deep breath and rubbed his clammy hands on his jeans before he stood up. He could do this, he reassured himself as he looked at the tiny sliver of light between the curtains he had to walk through in a moment. He could answer a couple of questions about work, couldn’t he? There was so much to talk about on that topic; taking directions, responding when ad-libs sometimes occurred—usually when Casey was being a dick—wardrobe choices, favourite scenes. He could cope with those.

  He took another breath as the lights backstage di
mmed to almost nothing and the noise of the crowd settled down; he assumed someone had come on stage. The guy who’d disappeared earlier hurried over to hand him a microphone. He whispered good luck and disappeared again.

  And then those words were uttered…

  ‘—warm welcome to Marc Matthews!’

  A huge cheer roared throughout the hall and suddenly Marc’s vision was filled with bright light as the curtains swished back, leaving him open to the stare of the thousands of attendees in front of him. He felt he couldn’t move as the spotlights centred on him, showing all of them where he was. He swallowed as the clapping began to recede and the announcer called to him to come forward.

  ‘…He’s a little shy, everyone. Be gentle and kind—we want him back next year!’

  Fuck that.

  A ripple of laughter ran throughout the audience as Marc forced himself to take a couple of steps forward, to position himself upstage. He knew he was supposed to be centre stage, but no way could he go any closer to them. The lighting guys would just have to deal with it.

  He brought the mic to his lips and spoke. ‘Hello.’ Another huge cheer rang out from the crowd; it made him cringe. If they were going to cheer everything he said, it was going to be a long forty-five minutes. The hall went quiet at last. ‘Thank you for the warm welcome,’ he said.

  ‘We have some questions for you, Marc,’ the announcer told him. He couldn’t see the guy, but he nodded as he clutched onto the mic with both hands, terrified it would slip from his grip.

  ‘Hi.’ He heard a young female voice greet him and turned stage-left toward where the queue should be. Although Luc had said it would be lit up more than the audience, he still couldn’t see them. Going with this less of an asshole personality, he decided to pretend as if he could see them after all and waved in the general direction.

  ‘Hey,’ he returned.

  ‘Thanks for coming along—it’s an honour to be your first question at your first event,’ the girl continued. ‘I absolutely love you and the show has really helped me…’

  He ground his teeth and resisted the urge to swear as she continued on with things he really didn’t understand. How did watching a show help someone? He had no clue; he just wanted her to ask her damn question, let him answer and get on to the next one so all this could be over with. The girl from earlier, Ellie, popped into his mind. He imagined her standing there, her unimpressed face staring at him. She would never profess such stupidity, he reasoned and wished it was her husky voice posing him a question.

  ‘Thanks,’ he managed when he realised she had stopped spilling her soul to him. ‘Did you have a question?’ The whole room seemed to titter and he forced a smile.

  ‘Oh. I—Yes,’ the girl sounded flustered and slightly disappointed.

  Good.

  ‘I was just wondering who you would like to act with outside of the show?’

  Okay, that was about his profession, he could answer that question. There were a few people he’d always wanted to work with; Tom Hanks and Al Pacino had been his idols growing up, and it would be an honour to work beside some of the great leading ladies like Dame Maggie Smith or Meryl Streep. Then there was Kate Winslet; she was someone he’d wanted to star beside for a while—damn DiCaprio for getting that part! At least that bastard hadn’t won an Oscar for the role.

  ‘Thank you,’ the girl said as he finished his answer. Before he had time to catch his breath, there was another fan asking another question.

  ‘Which is your favourite episode?’ a voice trilled.

  ‘Any one where the demons win—which isn’t many,’ he answered.

  ‘As time doesn’t affect angels or demons, which time period would you prefer to have lived in?’ That was the next one.

  ‘Now. The comforts of modern society are preferred, especially indoor plumbing.’

  ‘If you could play any other character on the show, who would it be?’

  ‘Gabriel, I’d play him much better than Luc can!’

  That one not only earned him a hearty burst of laughter but a round of applause too.

  ‘As if,’ they heard Luc say over the sound system.

  Surprised at the interruption, Marc turned to look and see where his friend was. Luc’s head pop out of the gap between the curtain, a microphone just visible. ‘You can only dream of being as talented as me.’ Luc winked at the audience before he disappeared again.

  Marc stood and stared at the curtain as if Luc was going to pop out again at any moment; it caused a titter of laughter to ripple through the fans.

  ‘Umm, okay… Thank you for your question.’ He dismissed the fan, but as he turned back to face the audience he stopped dead. He had moved further downstage by accident, thanks to Luc’s surprise, and Marc and could now see some of the audience. He swallowed as he gazed out across the crowd, terrified one face would be there, that Kelly would suddenly appear…

  He blinked and took a sharp breath, telling himself she was locked away, that she couldn’t get to him, Tyler, or any of his friends again. He looked back across the audience and wondered for a moment if his stoic friend from that morning had bothered to turn up. Perhaps she would, just to see if he fell on his ass.

  ‘In season three it was said—’

  A flurry of movement right at the centre of the front stage caught his eye and he noticed someone sitting with their back to him, motioning with their hands. He narrowed his eyes as he peered at them through the darkness. They were more hidden than the front row as the spotlights and the hall’s lower lights seemed to miss them entirely. He would have to get closer to check if they were really doing what he thought they were.

  The fan was still prattling on about her theory of time travel the angels and demons used in the show, so he nodded his head as if he was listening, as he stepped closer and closer to the stage edge, the spotlight slowly brought the person into view. Said person was, in fact, a woman with shoulder-length dark hair. She faced another woman and her hands were indeed mimicking Sign, but they weren’t signs he’d ever seen and yet he’d ensured he was fluent in the language—he’d been learning it since they’d discovered Tyler may have been deaf, not long after his birth.

  ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ he asked into the microphone before he even thought about it. The girl asking her question fell silent immediately as he bent down and tapped the ‘signing’ woman forcefully on the shoulder. The woman in front of him jumped at the sudden jolt he gave her and twisted her body around to him. ‘Is this a fucking joke? Are you messing with me?’

  ‘I— I’m sorry…?’ the girl below him stuttered as her eyes met his; a pair of startled, but beautiful, blue-grey eyes.

  It was her, the same girl from that morning, the one he’d respected for her indifference to him… and she was now making a mockery of what his son had to endure.

  But more importantly; how had she known?

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  ‘Just what do you think you are doing?’

  Ellie frowned at the unexpected interruption of the question.

  Marc’s interrupted the girl asking the question; he’s asked what do you think you’re doing? she signed for Mallory’s benefit. She watched as Mallory’s brown eyes switched up to Marc and instantly grew wide with alarm just as she felt an unexpected smack against her shoulder. Her whole body jolted in fright at the sudden contact and she turned quickly to see where it had come from.

  Marc Matthews loomed above her, bending over the stage and gazing down with furious eyes. The microphone was slightly lowered but still picked up his words to her; ‘Is this a fucking joke? Are you messing with me?’

  Her brow furrowed in confusion, what was he talking about? Why was he even addressing her? ‘I— I’m sorry?’

  ‘You heartless bitches,’ he sneered. ‘You think it’s funny to make fun of people? To screw around with this kinda crap is insensitive and disgusting.’

  She blinked at him throughout his tirade, as she tried to understand what the hell he w
as talking about. When he suddenly jerked back upright, the movement caused her to jump again. ‘How do you even know?’ he asked a touch panicked.

  She looked back at her friends in confusion.

  What’s going on? Mallory asked. Marie jumped in to explain the exchange taking place.

  ‘What’s the problem, Mr Matthews?’ The supervisor from earlier hurried down to the floor by the stage, her walkie-talkie crackling with questions of what was going on; had a fan done something? Had Marc had a breakdown?

  Ellie stood and faced the fuming actor, desperate to make sure he knew they were serious, that there was no piss-taking going on. ‘My friend, Mallory, is deaf, I’m signing for her.’

  ‘I’m fluent in Sign; what you’re doing is gibberish, utter nonsense.’

  The crowd behind Ellie was getting restless, murmurs of disgust could be heard and a number of flashes went off. Bloody fantastic. Now she was going to be plastered all over Twitter as the girl who had ruined Marc’s first panel.

  She felt her ire rise as the supervisor turned and asked if this was true.

  ‘No! It’s British Sign Language!’ She turned her stare on Marc. ‘I’m an interpreter for the Deaf—it’s my profession!’

  ‘You lying little—’

  ‘I am not lying!’ she shouted up at the actor. She couldn’t believe the arse was being so pig-headed. ‘Every country has their own form of sign language; I use British, but there’s also American and Austra—’

  ‘No there isn’t. I’m Canadian and we use the same in Canada as here,’ Marc interrupted her. Was he serious? Did he really not understand there were different signing languages throughout the world?

  ‘Yes, Canada uses ASL,’ she tried again through gritted teeth. ‘But, and if you’re Canadian you should know this, they also use Langue des Signes Québécoise, for the French Canadian Deaf community.’

  He hesitated as he glared down at her. It was clear he was trying to control his temper, that he was angrier than he showed, but Ellie just couldn’t figure out why. Why the hell was he being such an arse over this? If he was really fluent he’d have researched intensively deaf culture—including those across the globe. He was an international star! He should know these things.